


It's Okay Sammy

by righteousbros



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Character Death, Established Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, M/M, Major Character Injury, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-08
Updated: 2012-12-08
Packaged: 2017-12-31 19:07:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1035330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/righteousbros/pseuds/righteousbros
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A hunt goes bad.  Really bad.  Like they always knew it would someday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Okay Sammy

Copper.  
  
The first thing that registered in Sam’s mind when he started to regain consciousness was that his mouth tasted like copper. It was far from the first time that he’d had a mouthful of blood.  
  
His eyes fluttered open and the first thing he saw was the roof of the Impala. He was lying stretched out in the backseat. Home. Safe.  
  
But, where was Dean?  
  
He tried to sit-up with the intention of finding his brother but he found that he couldn’t. His body didn’t seem to want to listen. The best he could do was turn his head a little. He was so tired.  
  
Suddenly Dean’s face swam into view above him. Tear-streaked and pale and beautifully alive.  
  
“D?”. Sam could barely recognize the faint croak as his own voice.  
  
“It’s ok. It’s okay Sammy. I’m right here. You’re safe now.” Dean whispered. The corners of his lips twisted down into a grimace and he looked away to stare into the dark interior of the car. “I killed it. Killed them all. Nothing’s ever gonna hurt you again.”  
  
Sam could hear the break in his brother’s voice and he knew then. Knew it was really bad.  
  
He blinked several times as his mind sluggishly tried to sort it out. Sitrep. Hunter’s training so ingrained it was instinct.  
  
His head was resting comfortably on his brother’s lap. But as for the rest of him he didn’t really know. He couldn’t feel anything past the middle of his sternum. Every breath felt like a struggle. He tried to angle his head up to see the rest of his body. A Herculean effort.  
  
He was rewarded with a vision of what used to be his abdomen. Wrapped tight with what looked like their entire reserve of first-aid field dressings that were now more red than white. He had to be getting blood on the upholstery. Dean was going to be pissed.  
  
“Hey. Hey, Sam. Look at me.” Dean said, shifting to pull him up so that Sam’s upper body was cradled tightly in his brother’s arms. “Look at me. Don’t worry. It’s going to be ok. I got you”.  
  
Sam ignored the lie and focused his flagging energy on drawing in his next breath. Leather. Gunsmoke. Whiskey. Dean.  
  
“I’m not going anywhere.” Dean insisted thickly. “Gonna stay right here with you. No matter what. I’m not leaving you. I promise.”  
  
Sam might have nodded slightly, he didn’t know. He was so tired. His eyelids drooped but he fought against them. He wasn’t ready to sleep yet.  
  
“It’s ok, Sammy. Relax. You can rest now. We’re both gonna rest now”.  
  
Something about his brother’s tone set off an alarm in the back of Sam’s foggy mind. Defeat. Surrender. Acceptance. None of it sounded like Dean. The man who had dared to stare down Death himself and who had shot the Devil at point-blank range without so much as a flinch.  
  
Sam battled back the cobwebs in his head and stared up into Dean’s face, questioning as best he could with just his eyes. His beautiful big brother. A few flecks of blood dotted the angles of his face, almost hidden among his freckles. But otherwise he seemed physically ok.  
  
He searched into the twin pools of emerald green that shone down at him all too brightly with tears. Sam saw himself reflected there in their depths. And love. So much love. Love so big that it had even defied destiny. Then he caught sight of the rain-streaked window behind Dean’s head.  
  
He saw the old grease-stained towels and the grey rubber hose wedged tightly together in the opening at the top of the car window so that no air could get in. He hadn’t heard it at first over the soft patter of rain and the familiar thrum of the engine. But listening hard, he could make out the low hiss of exhaust leaking out of the hose.  
  
Panic seized through him. Sam tried desperately to move but his own body was holding him prisoner. Tried to make his mouth form words. No! Stop! Don’t! All he could manage was a hoarse-sounding, “D!”.  
  
“Shhhhh.” Dean soothed, as he ran his thumb through the tears that slid down Sam’s cheeks. He couldn’t tell anymore if they were his brothers or his own. “Shhhhh. It’s ok, baby. Don’t worry. Please. I just…I just can’t. I can’t.”  
  
Dean’s fingers combed lightly through Sam’s hair and he couldn’t stop his eyes from closing as he drank in his brother’s touch. Brother. The word could never really contain everything that Dean was.  
  
Sam knew he was dying. And he knew Dean was dying because he was. The rest of it – anger, frustration, guilt, sadness, and maybe a selfish kind of pride in Dean’s devotion washed over him great waves. He acknowledged them each in turn and then let them go. He was so very tired.  
  
Sam felt the ghost of a kiss on his forehead. Someone was humming low. A soft vibration against his ear.  
  
Hey Jude.  
  
He sighed quietly. One last breath parting his lips.  
  
D.


End file.
